


Hitchhiker's Guide to Planet Earth (Or, How to See Earth by the Skin of Your Teeth)

by MagneticHummus



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Drinking, Drug Use, M/M, Swearing, criminal activity, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 22:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8345242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagneticHummus/pseuds/MagneticHummus
Summary: In the mid-'70s, Stan, on his way to his next scam, picks up Rick, who is stranded in the New Mexico desert outside Roswell. Despite initially agreeing to part ways in the next populated area, Rick takes an interest in Stan when he realizes he’s a prolific conman and becomes determined to stick around. Rick convinces Stan he needs a business partner, and circumstances and flimsy excuses keep them together as they scam their way through the American Southwest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the Stanchez micro-bang!  
> [Art](http://squeeneyart.tumblr.com/post/152130611087/) over here by [squeeneytodd!](http://squeeneyart.tumblr.com/)

Three days walking through the New Mexico desert. It was probably the worst experience of Rick's life, on or off-world. Holding his jacket over his head as a sun-shade as he got closer to the road, he scanned the horizon for cars, or any sign of civilization. He should've just gone back to Roswell. “I-I can navigate the v-vacuum of space withou- with no problem,” he said to himself, kicking a rock, “b-but I can’t find my way out of a f-fucking Earth desert!”

He kept going until he hit the nearest mile marker, and sat down against it in a huff. He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. Still no signal. He hadn’t been able to get one since he’d been dropped in Roswell. “I just- just had to get dropped i-in the most backwater part of the most b-backwater planet..." He pulled out a flask he’d filled with water and shook it. Almost empty. “Great. J-just fucking great.”

Stan hated driving in the desert. The scenery was the same, like driving through a cartoon. It was disorienting, and without the faded mile markers Stan had no idea how far he’d even driven. He’d left Roswell sometime that morning, looking for somewhere to unload the rest of the low-quality blenders crammed in the backseat. Roswell had seemed promising, with the brand of gullibility that comes with being the UFO capital of the U.S, but Stan didn’t think he’d have to compete with all the tourist traps. So he decided to pack up and head somewhere else.

The gas tank was running out, and he still hadn’t hit the next town, or even seen any road signs besides mile markers. There were few roads and fewer turns, but Stan still felt like he’d gotten himself lost somewhere. He was pretty sure he lost the road entirely a couple times. The radio went in and out of static, killing Stan’s sense of time, and the number of times he’d turned around meant he couldn’t rely on the sun. The map he’d gotten in Roswell still sat crumpled on the dash, route marked, highlighted, retraced, and scribbled out. He pushed it the rest of the way off and onto the floor. Fucking desert.

Rick ran his hands through his hair. There had to be some way out of the desert. He strained his eyes looking up at the sky. It was too bright to see anything flying overhead, especially with the sun still high. He looked around at the horizon again. A cloud of dust coming up the road caught his attention, and he watched it for another couple minutes to make sure it wasn’t another mirage.

Stan found the main road again after traveling through a network of deserted backroads for what felt like hours. There still wasn’t a directional sign telling him what was coming up next, but a main road has to lead somewhere important eventually, right? But all he saw on the road coming up was a big bag of garbage. Someone must’ve been in a hurry to dump that, couldn’t wait for the next town. _Maybe it’s a dead body_ , he thought, laughing to himself. He swerved hard when he saw it move.

Rick stood up when he saw the car getting closer, and stood on the shoulder with his thumb out. He sighed in relief when the car started slowing down, and ran across to shove his backpack in the backseat almost as soon as it stopped. “Where you headed?” Stan asked as Rick opened the passenger side door.

“O-out of the desert. Any-anywhere’s fine, I-I-I just need to get out of this goddamn desert.”

“I’m headed into the next town over for business. I can drop you off there and you can catch another ride out, but I can’t have some hitchhiker with me the whole way. ‘S bad for business.”

_Shit_. Getting dropped in some middle-of-nowhere town was what got Rick into this mess in the first place. “Y-yeah that sounds, sounds fair. What, uh, w-what business you in, by the way?”

“None of yours,” Stan replied, putting the car in drive.

“S-so it’s something illegal. Drugs? A-are you with the mob? Some kinda, fuckin’, desert cult? He narrowed his eyes. “Y-you ain’t with the government, are ya?”

“What the fuck- no, none of those things! If it’s that important, I’m a salesman. I travel and sell things. I got a bunch of blenders to sell next town over. What do you do, since you were so interested in my business?”

“Yer lookin’ at it. M-my band just got off tour, thought I’d see the U.S. Turns out Roswell was a f-fuckin’ terrible place to, uh, to start. Oh, uh, I-I-I’m Rick, by the way. Th-thanks for savin’ my life.”

“Paul Spruce. A band, eh? You guys any good?"

“Hottest punk band i-in the galaxy!”

Stan just grunted in response. “How’d you end up in the middle of the desert like that, anyway?”

“Walked. N-not the whole way, my, err, my last ride didn’t, uh, work out. L-left me stranded. End of- of story.”

“Oh.”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, with nothing but the radio going between AM talk and static, and the hum of the engine. Rick stared out at the almost unchanging scenery, tapping his fingers against his leg every so often. He had to figure out some way to stick around long enough to get at least somewhere more populated than a tiny desert town. Plus, this guy seemed interesting. “Travelling blender salesman” had to be a front for something.

It was around noon when Stan pulled into a gas station. It was small, just a concrete shack with a couple of gas pumps out front, the only building for miles around. Stan pulled up to one. “I’m getting gas, and figuring out how far we are from town,” he told Rick. “Don’t touch anything.”

“H-hang on a minute,” Rick said, digging through his jacket pockets. He handed Stan a small wad of cash. “Here. Th-that should cover gas, a-and get me some water and a snack while you’re in there.”

Stan eyed Rick suspiciously, but decided not to ask where he got the money. “Whaddya want?”

“W-whatever. I ain’t picky.”

As soon as Stan opened the door to the service station, Rick popped open the glovebox. He was half expecting to just find the usual registration and insurance documents, a few tattered maps, proof that this guy really was just some guy selling blenders out of his car. He was pleasantly surprised. It was nearly bursting with fake IDs, passports, and various other forged documents, all with “Paul”’s face, but different names. Mixed in were a bunch of newspaper clippings touting various products from a “Stan-co” with dubious names and taglines, and a map of the U.S. with nearly every state between there and New Jersey crossed out labeled “States I’m Banned In.” Rick grinned deviously. Paul Spruce- Steve Pinington- Alec Pinesmore- Hal Forrester- Joey McPine- was exactly the kind of interesting Rick Sanchez fucked with. He had to find a way to stick around for the long haul now.

Stan walked out of the shack and Rick crammed all the papers back into the glovebox. He leaned back with his feet on the dash just as Stan got back to the car. “I got you your- getchyer filthy boots off my dashboard. I got you your shit.” He tossed Rick a paper bag, and set another one full of bottles of water on the driver’s seat. “The toffee peanuts are mine. We aren’t too far from town, once I get gas we’ll get going.”

Rick sat up straighter, grabbed a bottle of water, and poked through the bag of snacks. “Y-yeah, cool, 8-Ball.”

“...What did you just say?”

“I-I said ‘Y-yeah, cool, Paul.’ Just get gas so we can get out of here.”

Stan shot Rick a wary look and shut the door. Rick chugged a bottle of water and shoved a handful of goldfish crackers into his mouth. Stan decided to let it go, figured he just misheard. There’s no way Rick could’ve known, he reminded himself, closing the gas cap and getting back in the car. “Alright, all gassed up, time to hit the road.”

Rick said nothing, and leaned against the door, bag of crackers in one hand and another bottle of water on his lap. A couple billboards breaking up the monotonous desert scenery told him they were getting closer to civilization.

They hit the next town in just under an hour. Rick had chugged two more bottles of water, then dozed off the rest of the way. Stan drove around the small town, looking for a good place to park for the night, and a good spot to drop Rick. “This place’s gotta have a bus depot or something,” he muttered to himself. He gently shook Rick’s shoulder. “Hey, hey where d’you want me to drop ya?”

“Huh?”

“We’re in town. Can’t find a bus depot or nothin’, where d’you want me to drop you off?”

“A-anywhere’s fine. H-hey, actually, Paul, why don’t we grab lunch or somethin’ before splittin’ off? My treat, f-for gettin’ me into town?”

Stan was about to protest, insist he was fine, until his stomach growled. How long had it been since he had a decent meal? Besides, the more business he could do before people caught wise, the better, and if he started now and stopped for the night, there’d be more time to warn neighbors and he’d have to start over again. He pulled into a parking lot to turn around. “We just passed a place that looked decent.”

Rick tried not to look too excited.

The diner was small, fairly busy, and decorated like someone’s grandmother’s house. Rick decided on pancakes and bacon almost as soon as they sat down. Stan, on the other hand, took a little longer to peruse the menu, and ended up getting a burger. The waitress brought them their drinks as they sat in silence. Trying to ignore one another was harder when they were facing each other, and Stan couldn’t shake the feeling Rick was looking at him, though every time he glanced to check, he was fiddling with his straw wrapper, or drawing some sort of diagram on a napkin. He sighed in relief when their food was brought out and the pressure to make smalltalk was lifted.

Which was, of course, when Rick decided to start talking. “S-so you’re in this whole blender salesman thing by yourself, right? Yer own boss a-an’ shit?” he slurred around a mouthful of pancakes.

“Yeah? What’re you gettin’ at?”

“You need a business partner?”

He narrowed his eyes and took a bite of his burger, silently prompting Rick to continue. Rick had a similar plan, somehow maintaining his smug shit-eating grin while chewing pancakes, silently urging Stan to respond. “Why’re you so interested?”

“Y-you seem interesting. ‘Sides, I-I don’t really got nothin’ I need to do here, my plans m-mostly involved wandering and hitchhiking. Stickin’ with you s-seems like a better use of my time.”

“Look, I’ve been doing fine on my own, guy. And I just met you today, I ain’t gonna rush to trust you with my business.” Rick opened his mouth to say something and Stan cut him off. “I got you into town, that was the deal. If you can’t get a ride out by the time I leave, I can get you to the next town, but that’s it.”

They finished eating in tense silence. Stan left before Rick paid the bill, returning briefly to dump his bag and jacket in the empty booth seat. “I’ll be here two days, tops. You know what my car looks like.”

Stan pulled his car into a vacant lot behind an abandoned church, out of sight from the main road. He took stock of the blenders he still had and formed a plan of attack while he still had a little daylight. Stan hadn’t been expecting much, but the town was a lot smaller than he thought it’d be. He wasn’t likely to sell more than a couple blenders, but he worked on his sales pitch well into the night.

The battery-powered alarm clock on the dash woke Stan up bright and early. He stretched as best he could in the cramped front seat, and groggily drove to a gas station he’d passed just up the road, parking in the back. He bought himself a modest breakfast with the rest of the money Rick gave him for gas, and washed his face in the bathroom. His suit was still neatly pressed, carefully laid out across the boxes in the trunk. After slugging back the rest of his coffee, he looked at himself in the rearview mirror, put on his sales face, and drove out to the more residential area.

By sundown, he’d sold four blenders. It was two more than he thought he’d sell, but barely put a dent in his inventory. He still had the houses on the other side of town to hit. From what he’d seen driving by, it looked like a bigger area, but Stan still wasn’t that hopeful. He changed back into his t-shirt and sweatpants and grabbed a cheap sandwich at the gas station before parking in back in the lot. He sighed. Maybe that Rick guy was right. Maybe he did need a business partner. Someone to bounce ideas off, back up his sales pitch. He crammed the sandwich wrapper into the plastic trash bag under the seat and laid down to sleep. Rick’s dirty boot print was still on the dashboard.

Stan woke up before his alarm that morning, and went through his usual routine. He practiced his sales pitch in the car a couple times before driving out.

He did even worse that day. Two blenders sold, and more doors slammed on him than he could count. And no more houses left in town he hadn’t been to. It was time to cut his losses and ditch the blender idea. He still had too many in his backseat that would never sell. Cringing at the lost profits, he tossed his remaining stock in a dumpster on the edge of town.

Stan bought a new map with his gas station sandwich that night, and tried to figure out where he could go from here. He traced out routes to every city he thought he could drive to. He’d have to craft a new identity. Kurt Pinewood. Stan liked the sound of that. He sat in his car coming up with a believable backstory and brainstorming possible new scams to run until the sun went down. He was too far away for the streetlights to be any use, and he didn’t want to use up his car battery running the lights all night. But, for some reason, he didn’t want to sleep yet. He counted up the money he had managed to make. A couple drinks probably wouldn’t hurt.

The bar was small, dark, and, given how early it was, not very crowded. Country music played from the jukebox in the back. Stan took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. He didn’t even notice who he sat next to until he spoke. “O-oh shit, Paul! W-what’re you s-still doin’ in town?”

“I should be asking you that. Couldn’t find a ride out?”

“Nah. T-town’s too small. O-only one goin’- goin’ in or out’s the mailman, a-and he can’t give me a ride ‘cause of ‘f-f-federal regulations’ or s-some shit.”

Stan just made a noise and turned to his beer. Fuck. He was gonna have to drive this guy out of town, wasn’t he? _What did you get yourself into, Stan?_ he thought. _This is what you get for picking up hitchhikers_. He considered just getting up and leaving. Once this beer was finished, of course. He paid good money for that. He tried not to say anything, just finish his beer and leave. “Well,” he said, almost automatically, “a deal’s a deal. I’m heading out in the morning, you got a place to crash for the night? Not sure my car’s big enough for the both of us.”

“Not, uh, n-not exactly. I-I’ll figure somethin’ out though.” He knocked back a shot of tequila. “Or I can j-just party all night a-and not have to worry about it! You in, Paul?”

Stan hesitated. The cash in his pocket was supposed to get him at least to the next major metropolitan area. “I-I’ve got a tab open,” Rick said, as if he’d read Stan’s mind.

Stan chugged the rest of his beer. He didn’t know how Rick got a tab open, let alone how he was going to pay it at the end of the night, but if he was being honest, he really didn’t care. When was the next time he was going to get to do this? “I’m in.”

“Yeah! Th-that’s what I’m talking about!”

Several drinks later, Stan got up on unsteady feet to use the bathroom. Rick checked his watch, blinking a couple times to get the face in focus. Nearly closing time. Time to call it. There was one problem. He was out of money. He sipped at his last drink and scanned the bar.

He couldn’t have timed it more perfectly. Stan left the bathroom just as the fight was getting into full swing. He narrowly avoided a swinging pool cue, which broke cleanly against the doorframe above his head. Before he knew what was happening, he was pulled into the fray, punching and kicking his way through a crowd of angry drunken bikers. Rick came out of nowhere and grabbed Stan by the collar of his shirt and dragged him toward the door, armed with a broken bottle.

Rick ran out of the bar as fast as he could while supporting Stan and his backpack. “K-keep up with me, Paul! Where’d you- _fuck_ \- where’d you p-park your car?”

“Stan,” he slurred.

“What?”

“My name’s Stan.”

“Th-that’s great, buddy, a-and we can talk a-about that later, where’s your car?”

“Lot by the old church.”

Stan wobbled and groaned while Rick dug around frantically in his pockets for his car keys. Bingo. He unlocked the passenger side door and threw his bag over the seat before shoving Stan in. Stan leaned his head on the dashboard and groaned again. Rick slid over the hood, jacket in hand, and fell off the other side. Swearing, he stood up, dusted himself off, and unlocked the driver’s side, looking over his shoulder to check how close the angry mob was. He thanked whoever was out there when the car started on the first go, and sped out of the empty lot.

He swerved wildly leaving town, struggling to keep his eyes open and focused. Shit. He already had the whole bar on his tail, he didn’t need any cops joining. He had to focus. Rick narrowed his eyes and steeled himself, but he was fading fast. He dug around in his coat pockets, driving as straight as he could one-handed. A-ha. He pulled out a baggie of pink crystalline powder, holding it up to the passing streetlights. _Yeah, that’ll wake me up_


	2. Chapter 2

Stan woke up doubled-over with his head on the dashboard. He groaned and sat up, squinting in the daylight. This definitely wasn’t the abandoned lot he’d parked in. And why was he in the passenger seat? And where were his pants? He looked over at Rick, wincing after turning his head too fast, and grabbed the sunglasses clipped to the visor. He paused for a moment to let his head settle. Rick was curled up against the driver’s side door, jacket balled up under his head as a pillow. He shook him awake. “Rick. Rick, wake up, asshole, where the fuck are we?”

Rick made a noise and nestled into his jacket. “Rick!”

Stan shoved at his shoulder again. Rick scrunched up his face and sat up. “Yeah, a-alright, I-I’m up. W-whatd’ya- whad’ya want?”

“What the fuck happened last night? Where are we? How did we get here? And where the fuck are my pants?”

“S-slow down man, one-one question a-a-at a time…” He rubbed his eyes. “First off, we’re wherever the n-next- next town over is. I wasn’t, uh, paying attention to signs an’ shit, I-I just had to get us outta town, fast. But we’re in a new town, wasn’t that the- the goal? Y-you can probably sell the rest of- of your blenders here!”

“And my pants?”

“You threw up on ‘em o-on the way here. I-I tossed ‘em when I parked. Didn’t think you’d ap-preciate sleeping in that.”

Stan grumbled something vaguely appreciative and tried to lean over the seat. His sweatpants were just out of reach and the seat digging into his stomach made him feel nauseous again. “Grab me my sweatpants?” he asked Rick, leaning on the dashboard to steady himself. “They’re behind you on the floor.”

Rick groaned and carefully leaned over. “I-I can’t reach ‘em either,” he said, slumping back in his seat.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Rick got out of the car and grabbed them. “Here,” he said, throwing them at Stan, who had moved to the driver’s side. “D-do we wanna get breakfast or j-just sit here longer?” he asked, leaning on the roof.

Stan paused, awkwardly maneuvering to put his pants on. “Breakfast. Definitely. You buying again?”

“Nah, I-I’ve got...f-five blemflarcks and half a b-blips and chitz ticket left,” he said, pulling a handful of colorful crumpled bills out of his pocket. “I kinda...ran out o-of money back at the bar. S-started a fight to get out of paying the, uh, tab. That’s- that’s why we had to leave s-so fast.”

Oh man. Stan kinda wished he remembered that. “Alright, I should be able to scrounge us up something. Get in, let’s figure out where we are and where we can eat. And how to make some extra cash.”

It was a sprawling suburb, with a strip mall off the highway. Stan kicked himself a little for ditching the blenders, he probably could’ve unloaded at least half of them here. He pulled into the gas station down the road from the shopping center. He froze. “Rick. Rick you didn’t toss out my wallet with my jeans, did you?”

Rick paused and narrowed his eyes in thought. He pulled a wallet out of his back pocket and handed it to Stan. Stan’s heart skipped a beat and clutched it to his chest. He’d deny tearing up a little. He’d especially deny the urge to hug Rick. “Thanks.”

“D-don’t mention it.”

They grabbed coffee and prepackaged danishes, and Stan told the kid behind the counter that he and his friend here got themselves a little turned around out in the desert, and lost their map route, could he possibly tell them which town they were in so they could be on their way?

“We’re in Watseka,” the cashier told him.

“ _Watseka? _” Stan asked incredulously as soon as they left the store, looking for it on the map he’d gotten. “How in the hell did we wind up so far south?”__

__Rick shrugged. “I-I just started driving, man, I-I-I-I didn’t know where I was going. Shit, I don’t even remember half the drive.” They got back in the car. “Y-you think you can sell your blenders here?”_ _

__Stan shook his head. “Ditched the blender game. Wasn’t doin’ much for me. Besides, might as well quit New Mexico while I’m ahead. Managed to get this far without gettin’ kicked out, don’t wanna press my luck, y’know? Let’s see how far we can get today.”_ _

__“Hey, ‘s your name really Stan?” Rick asked after they’d been driving for a while. He was holding the map up with his knees and had a bunch of tools in his lap, messing with a small electronic device he’d fished out of his backpack._ _

__“Where’d you get that idea?”_ _

__“Thought you told me that w-when we were running. I-I was wasted, s-so I wasn’t sure if that actually happened.”_ _

__“Oh."_ _

__Rick carefully twisted a two small wires together. Stan tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel. The faint sizzle of solder filled the silence. “So is it?” Rick asked again._ _

__Stan hesitated. “Yeah. I use aliases out on the road, it’s easier that way. But my name’s really Stanley Pines.”_ _

__“Suits you b-better than Paul Spruce.” He smirked and glanced over at Stan. “O-or Hal Forrester.”_ _

__Stan turned to Rick in shock. “Okay, now how in the fuck do you know about that one?”_ _

__“H-how do you think? I went th-through your glove box, like, the s-second you left me alone. Had t-to know what kinda secrets the guy I was trusting to get me o-outta the desert was keeping.”_ _

__“I should ditch you again as soon as we get to Arizona. I should kick you out right now. I told you not to touch anything! Who the fuck does that?”_ _

__Rick just shrugged and pressed a couple components into place. “Y-you’re not gonna kick me out. Besides, I-I found out you were lying to me and still stuck around, I think that makes us even."_ _

__Stan just shook his head and turned his attention back to the road. He tried to ignore Rick. He didn’t want to start a fight while driving, but he wasn’t forgiving him that easily. Rick either didn’t notice or didn’t comment, and kept working._ _

__A faded sign welcomed them to Arizona, and neither of them had said a word. Rick shoved his project back in his bag and turned back to stare out the window. “So what was that, anyway?”_ _

__“Nothin’ important. S-supposed to be a hologram projector, but I-I think I’m missing a part.”_ _

__Stan tried to wrap his head around that for a second, then ignored it. He was out of his element even trying to question it. Rick fiddled with the radio, coming up with twelve distinct kinds of static and settling on a local news station. Stan turned off into a truck stop a little ways up the road. “Alright, I need gas again, and we should probably eat somethin’.”_ _

__Rick stretched when he got out, and Stan tossed him his wallet. “I probably shouldn’t trust you with that, but go get food while I get gas.”_ _

__“How’re you gettin’ gas i-if I have the wallet?”_ _

__“I’m gonna siphon it offa someone, obviously.”_ _

__Stan closed the gas tank just as Rick walked up with a greasy fast food bag. “S-so, good news, we had just enough f-for the cheapest thing on the menu. Bad- bad news, we have no money now.”_ _

__“Fuck.”_ _

__“Yeah.”_ _

__“Alright. We won’t be able to just drive up through Arizona like I planned. We’re gonna have to make money to get by. It might take a few days.”_ _

__“I’m down.”_ _

__They got back in the car. Stan pulled out a notebook and Rick handed him a burger. “How’d you make all that money you had when we met?”_ _

__“Hocked my bass, s-sold acid to college kids. I-I don’t have another bass to sell but we _can_ sell acid again, I-I can whip up a batch of that i-in my sleep! O-or mescaline, we’re in the desert!”_ _

__“That sounds like a terrible idea, but if we can’t think of anything else. What’d you do before that? You had to have come in from somewhere else.”_ _

__“I-I told you, I was on tour. Th-then I bummed around the galaxy with our roadie for a while, but I’m pretty sure what me and Scott did for f-flurbos out there won’t work here on Earth.”_ _

__“Around the _galaxy?_ You expect me to believe you were in outer space? Were you _selling_ acid or _doing_ acid?”_ _

__“Both, b-but not until I was already back on Earth. A-anyway, it’s not important. What do you usually do?”_ _

__“Sell shit door to door. Like the blenders. Except I _usually_ like to stick around and establish myself a bit better, and I’m trying to get you outta the desert so that ain’t gonna work.”_ _

__“Fuck. I-I-I was kinda countin’ on the- the master con artist to think of somethin’, ‘cause I got nothin’.” Rick took a bite of his burger. “W-we could always do a series of heists.”_ _

__Stan didn‘t look up from his notebook. “No.”_ _

__“Aw, come on, i-it could be awesome! Leave a trail of robbed banks a-and knocked-over gas stations as we cut across Arizona! W-we could be like- like- fuck, I-I don’t know, someone. Either way, w-we’d be rich!”_ _

__“Bonnie and Clyde?” Stan suggested automatically, lost in thought. He didn’t realize what he’d said until Rick laughed. “We’re not robbing banks. I draw the line there. I don’t need to go back to jail that fast. ’Sides, not as much money in it as you think.”_ _

__“Damn.”_ _

__They sat in silence for a few moments. Stan flipped through his notebook to look through past ideas. “Stanco Home Security might not need much setup. We’d just need money for window stickers. And the keypads. And clothes that look a little more professional.” He glared and flipped the page. “Yeah, we might as well forget that one.”_ _

__“I can t-take care of the keypads easy. W-won’t even need cash for that. And as for the cash we need r-right now...I-I might have somethin’ for that too, actually.”_ _

__He started digging through his jacket pockets, then turned to search the small pockets on the front of his bag. Stan watched in confused silence. Rick examined a small white pill he pulled from one of the pockets, then reached back in and grabbed several more in a small baggie. “Ah-ha! Th-thought I still had these!”_ _

__“What even are those?”_ _

__“Y-y’know, I don’t actually remember? But I bet I can get a newbie trucker to buy ‘em off me if I tell him they’ll keep him up o-on a long drive.”_ _

__Rick wolfed down the rest of his burger and got out of the car. Stan squinted as he tried to watch Rick do exactly that on the other side of the lot. He’d caught a guy just getting back into his rig. Stan was too far away to figure out exactly how Rick managed it, but he came sauntering back to the car with a grin and a thumbs-up. “A-alright, we should be set. N-now let’s roll.”_ _


	3. Chapter 3

Stan came around the back of the strip mall they’d stopped at, package of window stickers under his arm, to find Rick headfirst in the dumpster, pulling out random items and throwing them behind himself. He surfaced, and sat on the edge appraising his finds. “Rick, how are you gonna make the keypads with this junk?”

“You’ll see. I-It’ll be awesome. Just need o-one more thing, I swear I s-saw it in there...”

Stan watched Rick disappear into the garbage again. He resurfaced with an armful of calculators. “God, c-can you believe these stores just th-throw this stuff out?” he asked as he climbed out of the dumpster.

Rick gathered up all of his supplies and shoved them in the backseat. “Alright, l-let’s find somewhere to set up shop. Can’t work back here, c-can’t have employees comin’ back to ask questions.”

Stan found an empty lot nearby. Rick wasted no time getting to work, pulling apart the electronic junk and recombining it. Stan made him work out of the trunk to keep the plastic and solder fumes from building up inside the car. Stan, meanwhile, worked out their new fake identities and documents in the backseat.

Rick slammed the trunk closed, and shoved the scraps into a corner of the lot. He came around the car and opened the door, proudly brandishing a keypad. “Managed to make t-twenty five of these bad boys! H-hopefully we won’t need t-too many more, b-battery on the heat gun’s about dead. They ain’t pretty a-a-and they don’t match, but they’ll do the job.”

Stan put the final touches on a Stanco ID badge, and looked up to watch Rick proudly press buttons. It beeped, and numbers appeared on the screen. “You built and programmed 25 of those that fast? Why’re you out here with me and not at some university?”

Rick just laughed. “B-because school is for chumps, S-stanley. Hell, I-I-I didn’t even graduate high school! I-It’s not- it wasn’t a great place f-for a guy like me.”

Stan went quiet for a few moments. He felt a weird mix of emotions he didn’t want to address. Eventually, he snapped himself out of it and handed Rick his new ID. “Here. We aren’t gonna wanna use our real names for this. You’re Roy Jones, I’m Kurt Pinewood. We probably shoulda gotten better disguises, but we ain’t exactly got a lotta time or money for this.”

The next day they drove into the suburbs, practicing their sales pitch. Stan barely wanted to admit it to himself, but in the faded blue button-up and with his hair slicked back, Rick cleaned up pretty nice. “W-watch the road, asshole.”

Stan hadn’t even realized he’d been staring. He shook his head a little and faced forward, just as they hit the town limits.

Stan was almost surprised when the first house didn’t slam the door on them. He wasn’t as surprised when they ended up not going for it, and less surprised when the next five doors were slammed in their faces. He could see Rick trying not to look disappointed and decided not to point it out. They finally caught a break just after midday, when an older woman living alone let them “install” the security equipment. Rick proudly affixed the fake keypad to the wall by the door, assuring her that it was “state of the art wireless technology” when she asked why it hadn’t been connected to anything else. Stan, meanwhile, gave her a caveat to call the cops anyway in the event of a break-in “because it’s always better to have two reports on the books, helps them catch burglars better.”

They laughed about it in the car, and drove on to the next house. Most of the rest of their day was spent getting doors slammed on them. Stan was sure one of the few ladies that let them in had started to get suspicious, and got them out of there as fast as possible without raising further suspicion. They sold one more fake system before they decided to call it a night.

They camped out just outside the nearest city, parked off the road in a hidden spot. Rick checked inventory while Stan got them something to eat. Rick was already lying in the backseat when Stan got back with tex-mex takeout. Stan went over the next day’s game plan while they ate.

“H-hey, Stanley,” Rick asked, leaning over the seat, “What’s the e-endgame here? I know we’re headed out of Arizona, b-but _where_?”

“California. Figure that’ll work out for both of us, you can find someone else to hang around for a while easy, and I can drive up past a bunch of states I can’t go back to and try to get my shit back together.”

“Yeah, alright,” he said, leaning back against the door. “S-sounds like a plan, Stan.”

Stan relaxed into his seat, going over the map again. It was quiet except for the sizzle of solder and Rick cursing under his breath when he burned his finger. He got an uneasy feeling when he glanced at California, but tried to ignore it and get some sleep. He turned off the ceiling light in the car, and Rick’s flashlight clicked on. He fell asleep to the sound of Rick digging around in his backpack.

Stan had set his alarm earlier than usual for that morning. He’d found a shortcut around the city to the next town they were set to hit, but he still wanted to make sure they had as much of the day as possible to use. Rick was still asleep in the backseat when he set out.

Rick woke up when they stopped just under an hour later. Stan threw him a greasy paper bag. “Morning, sunshine. Got you hash browns and coffee.”

He rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Oh shit, _a-actual breakfast_? W-what’s the occasion?”

“I got a good feeling about these towns, Rick. We’re gonna do good here.”

They got off to a terrible start. Half the marks in the first town were slammed doors, and most of the people that actually let them in didn’t end up going for it. They managed to sell one before leaving. The next town was surprisingly close, and had high-end housing developments next to neighborhoods of more modest homes. He drove through the development and stopped in the neighborhood next to it. Things started looking up about five houses in, and suddenly every house they hit bought a system. Rick had to try not to look shocked, and it got harder every time. Even Stan was surprised. Rick had to stop to take inventory again to make sure they weren’t running out before they could move on, and already started contemplating another dumpster dive and how he’d work around a dead heat gun.

Their hot streak waned the further they got from the developments, and Stan decided that was a good time to move on. He put Rick in charge of counting the money while he drove to the next town he had mapped out.

Compared to the last run, this town was almost disappointing, but they did better there than in the rest of the towns. “This has to have been the best idea I’ve ever had!” Stan said as they headed to the next house. “I don’t know if I could’a pulled it off without you, either.”

“I-I bet you could’a figured it out. B-but thanks, man.”

They decided to celebrate their windfall by crashing in a cheap motel instead of the car that night. Stan sent Rick out for food this time, so he could take a shower for the first time in what felt like months. Rick came back with Chinese takeout and the cheapest bottle of tequila he could find.

“L-last time we cut loose got cut short r-runnin’ from an angry mob. W-we deserve this,” he said defensively.

“I wasn’t arguing,” Stan said, shrugging.

“Good.” He set his food on the end of the bed, and handed the rest of the bag to Stan. He put the bottle on the nightstand between them. “T-touch my fried rice a-and you’re a dead man,” he warned, going to shower before he ate.

They spent the rest of the night taking turns drinking straight out of the bottle and eating Chinese food. They argued over answers on Jeopardy. Stan was weirdly proud when he got an answer that Rick didn’t know. “I thought you were a genius,” he teased.

“I-I was off-planet the last f-five years!” Rick said. “W-when was I s-supposed to have kept up w-with Earth pop culture?”

Stan just laughed. Some movie came on after Jeopardy ended, but neither of them paid much attention to it, besides Rick making the occasional sarcastic comment. Stan had the map out again, and was trying to plan out a route. One too many invented roads and corner-cuts told him he was too drunk. He tried to fold the map back up before just tossing it on the floor. Rick handed him the bottle. “H-hey, Stan,” he slurred. “A-are you-are you attra-acted to me?”

Stan nearly spit out a mouthful of tequila. “What?” he asked, setting the bottle on the table and staring incredulously at Rick.

“I-I asked- I asked i-if you think I’m hot.”

“What the- what the fuck? I-I’m not-”

“N-not the question. C-c’mon man, y-you let me stick around way lo-onger than you really h-had to. Y-you kept starin’ yesterda-ay morning, y-you know I saw you. Just- w-what’s the deal, man?”

“Rick, you’re drunk.”

“S-so are you, what’s your point? Y-you keep do-odging the question, Staaanleeeyy.”

“Well, what about you? Why do you wanna know so bad?”

“Whaddya th-think I meant by ‘i-interesting?’ ’O-oh, here’s Paul Spruce, the blender salesman, th-that seems like a cool adventure?’ I-I was in- in _space_ before this, mo-otherfucker!”

“You’re sticking around because you think I’m hot?”

“No. I-I’m sticking around b-because you’re ge-etting me out of- of the god damn desert. I-I called you i-interesting because I th-think you’re hot.”

Stan got quiet and drank more tequila. Rick reached over and made a grabbing gesture, silently telling Stan to hand it over. “A-and don’t think turn- turning this back o-on me gets you o-off the hook,” he said when the bottle was safely in his possession.

“Alright! Fine!” Stan said, throwing his hands in the air. “I mistook you for a pile of garbage when I first saw you, and don’t get me wrong, you still look like a pile of garbage, but you’re...actually really weirdly attractive, especially cleaned up like this.” He started to trail off, voice muffled. “And I kind of hate you for it and I kind of hate myself for it.”

“The f-first step is admi-itting it,” Rick said, downing the rest of the tequila. “S-so now what are y-you gonna do about it?”

No response. Rick sat up and looked over. Stan was passed out on the other bed. “F-fucking lightweight,” he lamented, tossing the empty bottle into the corner.

They’d both forgotten Stan had set the alarm clock until it woke them both up way earlier than they were ready for. Stan, usually up bright and early to get to work, groaned and flailed for the sleep button, not realizing he’d passed out with his head at the foot of the bed. Rick rubbed his eyes and stretched, and turned off the alarm. “M-morning, sunshine,” he mumbled.

Stan picked the map up off the floor while he and Rick got dressed and worked out where they were going. If they kept going at this rate, they’d be near the border by the end of the day, and they could coast by on the money they’d made until they parted ways. He shoved the map in his pocket as Rick heaved his bag over his shoulder, and they left to check out.

They were on the road later than Stan had hoped, on Rick’s insistence they get breakfast. Stan just got coffee. The hangover made him doubt his ability to keep anything down.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Their luck stayed decent, but they had nowhere near the windfall of the previous day. A particularly difficult customer kept them longer than they’d wanted, and threw their schedule off even further. “If we skip the last town and keep driving,” Stan said when they stopped to eat, “we can still make it to California tonight. Otherwise we can call it a night and keep on track.”

Rick was about to answer, when the radio caught their attention with a warning about Stanco home security. And a description of Stan’s car. “Well that answers that,” Stan sighed, putting the car into drive and starting to get back on the road.

Then they heard the sirens.

Stan floored it. Rick turned in his seat to look out the back window. “Rick!” Stan shouted, “I still need you to navigate!”

He turned around and picked up the map. He couldn’t figure out which way they were facing, Stan was blowing past street signs faster than Rick could read them. Stan cursed under his breath and took a sharp turn.

They thought they’d lost them. Stan hazarded a glance in the rearview mirror to check. Faint lights shone in the distance, off the road they’d turned from. “Uh.”

He looked down to see a roadblock set up ahead. He skidded to a stop only for the cops chasing them to catch up. Gritting his teeth, he took off across the desert. He was only vaguely aware they’d started shooting, focused mainly on the sirens getting louder. He didn’t hear anything hit the car. Rick turned back to the back window, gripping the seat like his life depended on it. Stan pushed the car as fast as it would go, and cut a turn around a mesa. The sirens faded into the distance. Stan kept speed when they finally got back on a road, slowing down only when they saw a sign welcoming them to Nevada.

Stan kept driving while the adrenaline wore off. Rick turned back to face forward, shoulders still tense, trying to catch his breath. They managed to cut through Nevada and into California before they needed to stop. Stan pulled the car off the road again to park in the bluffs. He got out and stretched in the cool night air. Rick followed, pulling a joint out of his jacket pocket. “It’s from Mars,” he explained. “L-last one I got. Wanted t-to save it for somethin’ special.”

They stood on the edge of the cliff, looking off into the night sky. “You ever think about going back out there?” Stan asked, sitting down with his back against the car.

“S-since the second Scott dropped me in Roswell,” Rick said, taking the first hit. “Couldn’t f-figure how I’d get- get back out there, though.”

“I saw you make 25 partially functioning security keypads out of stuff you found in a dumpster, Rick. Plus the projector you keep working on.”

“O-okay, yeah, but a-all I had to do was make those beep. Space travel’s a-a little more complicated. I-I-I could do it easy, I-I just ain’t got the funds for the tech. Or anywhere reliable t-to steal it from.”

“So how’d you do it the first time?”

“Abducted. D-dumbass aliens didn’t realize who they got, a-and I took their escape pod for a joyride. M-met my best friends when it crashed o-on their planet." He looked up at the sky for a moment. “Y-you ever think about gettin’ off this rock, Stan?”

Stan just went quiet. “I mean, I guess? Never really, never really thought about it much. Space was...never really my thing.”

Neither of them said anything after that. They sat in silence passing the joint back and forth. It was quiet except for the insects. Finally, Rick spoke. “S-so what are we doing from here?”

Stan paused and exhaled. “Look, I’ve been on my own for years, I’m used to it. If you wanna go off on your own then go. But if you wanna stick around, I ain’t opposed to it.”

“I-I’m stickin’ around,” he said, exhaling. “We’re a good team, y-you and me. We can do great things, Stanley. M-maybe I can even take you t-to space eventually.”

Stan leaned his head back and looked up at the sky. “That’d be cool.”

Rick put a hand on Stan’s shoulder. Stan turned his head to look at him, and Rick leaned in to kiss him. Stan pulled him in closer. Rick swung a leg around to straddle Stan. Then he lost it. Rick broke the kiss cracking up, and buried his head in Stan’s shoulder, laughing. It was infectious, and they sat giggling like maniacs for a minute. “Alright, alright,” Stan said as they calmed down, “let’s- let’s try that again.”

Rick sighed into the crook of his neck. “God, you’re warm.”

Stan woke up squinting into the bright sun. They still had miles of desert to go but getting out wasn’t his goal anymore. He wasn’t sure what his next move would be, but he and Rick were going to figure that out. He nudged Rick awake and got them both back in the car to drive into town and figure out their next adventure.


End file.
